Packed early, enough time to stop for a coffee at the small place on main street before departure. Echoes of other trips overlaid, small routines and habits. This time the driver's in a hurry, an hour in to the journey and I feel slight nausea rising, open a vent, sit under cold air blowing down upon me. 

The landscape passing almost invisible in the haze, grey tones tumbling up into the midday sky, distant hills uncertain. The bends decrease as we descend, as the mountain road flattens out into an urban scene, increasing traffic signalling our return to the edge of the city and the approaching search for a new room.

Later music, local musicians in a corner yard, a comfortable room waiting ...